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BY— 



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DAVID h/fOLK. 



"FAIRFIELD RECORDER" JOB PRINT, 

FAIRFIELD, TEXAS. 
188«. 




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—BY— 



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DAVID H. FOLK, g 



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COPYEIGHT 1S79. 



AI.L EIGHTS BZSEBVZD. 



18843. 



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DEDICATION. 

To the honest, strong-armed and 
hard-laboring Poor Men, this Poem is 
most sympathetically inscribed as a 
token of friendship, on account of the 
many disadvantages, impositions and 
burdens under Avhich they are laboring; 
and as a token of a living hope that 
the time shall come when they will 
cast oft' the burdens and impositions of 
government, monopolists, sharks and 
speculators, and fix prices upon their 
products and industry, in a just and 
equitable ratio, in comparison with the 
non hard laboring and producing 
world's charges for business, official 
and professional services. 

Yours Faithfully, 

DAVID H. FOLK. 

Fkeestone Co., Texas. 
September 1, 1886. 



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SOM OF THE COTTOS HOEK. 



TIME — MORNING. 

Now up the row. 

And watch the hoe, 
i\.nd now on 'tother coming. 

I'm all the time 

A thinking rhyme, 
Or "gain and loss" I'm summing. 

Oh ! how I need 

(Hoe out that weed ! ) 
Some ten or fifty dollars; 

And if I make. 

For grass's sake, 
I'll buy some hoes and collars . 

And as for land. 

Black, loamy sand, 
I've got as good as any, 

And with some help 

(You little whelp!) 
I'll make as much as many. 



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(Leave all the g^rass, 

And I'll alas I 
_ Knock you ten feet a sprawling^), 

S^ Tlie moneyed men 

Will take it when 
I count out market hauling. 



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I've left out, too, 
(Tight, look at youl ) 

The hire of all the picking' — 
(Confound your skin, 
I'll make you grin. 

If you don't keep a kicking.) 

It breaks my back 

To drag a sack, 
All day a constant bending; 

And I am bound 

To look around 
For those on such depending 

It looks like I 
Am bound to buy 
A fev,- things. Well I know it, 
But if your hoe 
Is broke, you know 
3 You've got your row to hoe it. 



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SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. 8 

And there's no use 

To play the deuce, 
Ani leave the grass a growing; 

Put to a stand, 

'T would soon be grand, 
For grazing stock and hoeing. 

It's now as bad 

As any lad, 
(That big old weed there, slay it ! ) 

Though work's not high 

No use to try 
I ne'er can stand to pay it. 

But had I hands 

To work mv lauds: 
But what's the use to make it? 

We do the work 

That others shirk, 
And when 'tis made, they take it. 

Let's see; I owe, 

(Tight, hoe your row! ) 
For things of last year's cropping. 

(Can you not see 

We'll disagree 
'Bout such half cotton chopping?.; 



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SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. 

Six pairs of shoes, 

Some tens and twos, 
My wife's and daughter's dresses; 

One winter coat 

A.nd hat; I quote 
From bill which so oppresses. 

I also got 

Sundries a lot. 
There's no use specifying; 

The merchant swore 

That I'd deplore 
The failure of not buying. 

I bought in March 

Two pounds of starch, 
It's hardly worth a naming; 

And yet deny 

It would imply 
Just what I'm not at aiming 

Two plows I bought, 

At cost I thought, 
Two hoes with which we're hoeing, 

And hames and chains. 

Rope lines for reins, 
Have nie still for them owing. 




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so:ng of the cotton hoek. 5 

And half the meat 

Which we did eat; 
Two sacks of Texas tioiir, 

A stove aud pans, 

Lamp oil, by cans, — 
Enough to make one sour! 

Ten pence I found, 

Lard by the pound, 
I had no choice aud bought it; 

I did not say 5 

Of course, that day, 
I could not pay, but thought it. 

3Iy horse lay down 

And died, "old Brown," 
And left me for him owing; 

And I don't see 

How I can be 
Prepared to pay no showing. 

My crop will fall 

Far short of all 
I'm owing for. I'm fearing 

Per cents must wait 

Till through this strait 
Of hard times I am steering 



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SQ-SG Ox THU CC»TTOX HOEEL fcj 



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For wliat T o^w^e 

Them: as they kno"fv. 
Fm bound to live. Taxation 

Would soon play ont. 

Bevond a donbt. 
At such extermination. 

I mean to pay 

3Iy debts some day; 
No man shall be forgotten. 

Althongh I know 

That times are so 
There's nanght now made on cotton. 

We do not get 

Pay for onr sweat. 
Much less for time and troable: 

And yet we fools 

Will nse onr tools 
To help hard times to donble. 

Now, as for me, 

Fll try and see 
What Inck there is in swappin^r; 

Perhaps Fll make 

That way "a stake" — 
The devQ take the cropping. 



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SOXG OF THE COTTON HOZB- • 

That sorrel mare C 

Has nglv Iiair. w 

But she is good and blo«>ded; 

With such as she — 

Tisfht, follow me — 
I wish the land was flooded . 

What do yon mean. 

Tight, when vou lean 
Upon vour handle, srazic^? 

Ton lazy loon 

When it comes noon 
ril send you ont to grazing. 

Ton know that yon 

Mnst, this year throngh. 
Work for yonr bread and wages, 

m never pay 

My debts, they say. 
With snch as yon, for ages 

My raxes, too — 

• Now, Tight you'll do) 
And other debts Tve conn ted; 

With doctors' bills, 

Cansed by chills. 
Have way np yonder mounted- 



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^ "^ S05G OF TKZ COTTON HOEIL 



Oh I let us raise 

A hymn of praise 
To all the cotton growers; 

I've lost my health 

And have no wealth, 
I'm one of '*thorongh goere/" 

I've toiled and hired 

Until Tm tir&l. 
While others hold eommnnions; 

Kept cotton low 

And made me know 
What's meant by having "unions. '' 

Hush! Tight, I say, 

That horn to-day — 
Hush I don't you hear it Vjlowing? 

Hoe out your row 

And let us go, 
God knows this cotton's growing. 

TIMZ — EVZXIKG. 

Pick up the hoe, 

Away we go, 
We've had our herbal dinners; 

No care for sweat 

With those in debt, 
And those who'd come out winners. 



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9 



I wish I had 

Another lad 
To help me finish hoeing. 

I've a big crop 

And cannot stop 
To see who v.ants a showing. 

In other lands 

They get farm hands 
Whene'er they want, by winking; 

But here, if you 

Want one or two, 
You're put to work a thinking. 

And when you find 

They have a mind 
To go to work, not willing, 

These triliing tramps 

And lazy scamps 
Need, half of them, a killing. 



S 



I cannot tell, 

Of course, as well 

As some with Latin learning; S 

But I do think, f^. 

To eat and drink, S 

They should their bread be earning C 

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10 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK. 

They beg their way, 

So people say, 
They never think of payinj^; 

I'd like to see 

One fool with me 
About just now a staying. 

I\l pnt to work 

Tliis Gypsy Turk, 
And make him earn his living; 

Things don't to me, 

By bills vou see. 
Come bv a freelv giving. 



Their friends are dead, 

Their hopes have fled, 
And thus'thro' earth they wander. 

With me they fooi, 

They'll get a tool. 
And something o'er to f)onder. 






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They have the "brass" S 

To make them pass, 
And set us all to weeping, 

Sister, brother. 

Father, mother. 
Are joys in Heaven reaping. 



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SONG or THii COTTON HOER. 



11 



I've bread and meat, 

For those to eat, 
Who like to help to make it, 

Aud if they stalk 

Round me, I'll talk 
Aud ask them not to take it. 

1 think I'll get 

To-morrow yet 
Ui)ou this grassy hoeiug; 

But in the main, 

Should't chance to rain, 
'Twill set me back no kuovviug. 

I hope 'twill not 

Although I've got 
No faith in Texas weather; 

'Twill shine to-day, 

To-morrow may 
Find mud upon our leather. 

But^ rain or shine, 

No time is mine, 
I must be up and going; 

There's wood to luuil 

And rails to mall, 
And God is only knowing. 



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12 50SG or TEZ COTTON HOEE. 

And hot or cold. 

And sick and old. 
I must keep on a slaving; 

As those I o^we 

Are men, you know, 
Whose appetites are craving. 

That grassy row 

Has dullei my hoe, 
But now"s the time to slaughter; 

The stumps and trees 

Will sleep give ease — 
I wish I had some water. 

rd go and bring — 

But that's the thing- 
Some for our present drinking; 

But I declare, 

No time to spare 
And what's the use of thinking. 

This cotton patch 

Will make me scratch. 
Like mother hens with chickens, 

And should I find 

Tm not behind 
rU settle up with Dickens. ^ 

miainiraincnicanraiaraml 



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SONG OF THE COTTON HOEB. 13 

I've toiled my life. 

Myself and wife, 
In vain, howe'er, to do it; 

And I have made, 

With skill and aid. 
Whichever way I view it, 

:^ livin? bare. 

Such as I dare 
Not tell the world of fashion. 

Lest I should throw 

At them a blow 
And pnt them in a passion. 

It's up a row 

And down we go, 
And up and down and going: 

It's here's a weed. 

And there's the need 
Of plowing well and hoeing. 

From dawn till night, • 
And left and right. 
There's grass and work and sweating; 
From year to year. 
We persevere. 
But toil for others' getting. 



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3 

14 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK. H 
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The moneyed clan S 

Together plan, ^ 
But what's the nse of talking 

To those whose ears 

Have closed for years g 

To warning of much "hawking." m^ 

Your words are vain, B 

You're classed insane S^ 

And ridiculed by righters(?) H 

Sv?me farmers, too, 

Will join their crew, ^ 

Just like a fool for fighters. >«? 



• But had I tongues, 
3 Ten thousand lungS) 

H The rich would surely know it; 

I'd paint, nor shrink. 
In black as ink. 
The "face of facts" and show it. 



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You'll lose your time, 

Your reason, rhyme. 
And get a world of scolding; 

Most ev'ry pen 

Will show the sin ^ 

Of not the rich upholding. ^ 

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But, by the way, 

I'll say my say 
If it does feelings ruffle. 

"Big bug?," you see, 

Are biting me— 
I sting in this ground scuffle. 

O, gilt-edge themes, 

With skimmed off creams, 
From Greek and Latin learning I 

When shall ye cease 

To mention Greece, 
While we, the stone, is turning? 

When shall we be 

Again set free 
From burdens of taxation, 

And learn'd men's laws 

At which courts pause 
For cash's accommodation? 

We ought to know 

What means the show 
Of freedom's celebration; 

Nor join the shout 

That leaves us out 
As brutes for legislation . 



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16 SOSTG OF THE COTTON B.O'EE. 

But as it's time 

To dose tbis rfivme 
And s-o and feed tbe cattle. 

Wed better kiKick 

(Mon tiiis rock 
Our tools oi life's great battle. 

•* Go by and biing. 

Tight, eTeryihing 
And hie on to the feeding." 

I am a boy 

Goold I employ 
Tbe vDzst of all a needing. 

'-ToulL &ad mj eoat 

dose to tbe moat. 
Beside a tree a lying. 

And leave oui hoes 

At end of rows" — 
That ovl himarif is tryiiig. 

"Ton'd better get 
That plow I let 
Old Snoc^ hare, as weTl need it: 
And bring it, too. 
Xow sir, do you 

Then heed it" 






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TIME — NIGHT. ABOTTTTD THE HZ-iilH. 

Im tired to deatli, 
And ont of breath, 
3 And ont of cash and credit: 

My Inck is played 
And I am flayed, 
And yet a tear — -who'll shed rt? 

What we sliall do 
These hard times thron^fa. 
There is on earth no telling; 
What we shall make 

^ This year's at stake, 

5 And weVe no say in selling. 

M We are but fools 

And useful reals 
To do the work for other«; 

While "we might be. 

From debts all free, 
A mighty band of bsotfieTS. 

The merchant's elan, 
M-.-^st to a man, 5 

And ask their price and get it: 

And ve must p«y 
Them what tiiey say 
Is fair per cent^ nor fret it. 

SlUaaiJUUjIIUlLLLUAiulMiilUUji 



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18 SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. 

The doctors' hearts 

Beat, too, for starts, 
In unison together, 

Charge what they will — 

A bitter pill — 
Our talk's not worth a feather. 

The lawyers plead 

For those in need. 
At prices simply awful ; 

For naught they care, 

We must forbear. 
Their price is just and lawful. 

The bankers meet 

And then complete 
Their skillful calculation. 

And when the sheep 

Are all asleep 
They tieece them "like the nation." 

The railroad kings 

Form into rings 
To buy up legislators. 

Who make the laws 

To aid the cause 
Of those dire depredators. 



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SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. 19 

Bondholders strive 

To keep alive 
The blessings of taxation, 

That we shall sink 

To ruin's brink 
For their accumulation. 

High taritis, too, 

Help but the few. 
Id joint co-operation, 

To rob the land, 

While we must stand 
The burdens of creation. 

Without such laws 

As aid the cause 
Of kings of oiy creation; 

Although we make. 

From gulf to lake. 
The land an admiration. 

And cotton's kings— 

Soft-handed things- 
Have but one mind and pocket; 

They'll classify 

And price and buy 
And weigh it, ere they dock it. 



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20 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK. 




5 


"Cotton to-day 


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5 


Is dnll," they'll say— 
"One-fourth cent low, declining," 
And thus compel 


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Us all to sell 


2 




At terms themselves assigning. 




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They would ne'er raise 


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All of their days 


2 


2 


For prices they are giving; 


3 


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Albeit they 


5 


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Would have us say, 


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"It's good to be a living." 


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2 


Thus times are so 


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That we well know 


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We ought these*facts be heeding; 


3 


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All clan to make 


2 


Their mottoes take, 


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While we the plow keep speeding. 


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5 


We'll never rise, 


^ 


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Unless we're wise 


s 


5 


Enough our work to praise it. 


3 


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Then let us meet 


^ 


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Price cotton, wheat, 


1 


And let them give, or raise it. 


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Why should we toil 

All day our soil, 
For pay so very little, 

While others chari^e 

A price so lar^e, 
We labor hard; they whittle. 

What is our life. 

But one of strife? 
No time for recreation, 

While those that toil 

Not in the soil, 
Have sweet's intoxication. 

Hot beds of ease 

Spring up to please 
Their bloated taste and notion, 

And we must make, 

Just for the sake 
Of keeping wheels in motion. 

Whose house is fine. 
Where trails the vine? 
Whose clothes are worth the wearing? 
Who live at ease, 
Save from disease. 
And spend their thousands airing? 






^iimiimiimmiiDi 







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Speak out, you blind, 

Let loose your mind, 
Long time you've been forbeariucj. 

By truths that show 

Where'er we go 
Let us begin comparing. 

Let us be wise 

And ope our eyes, 
Demand just weights and measures. 

And prices too 

For what we do, 
In these consist our treasures. 

The millions eat 

Our bread and meat, 
And billions wear our making; 

We spread the sail. 

For ships we iiail. 
From lands where bones are aching. 

The wheels that turn 

By fires that burn 
Are kept by us a going; 

Coal mines and gold 

Their wealth unfold, 
While we reap not our sowing. 



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SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. 28 

We get the tares 

And worldly cares 
A.nd back seats for our trouble ; 

Kid gloves aud gents 

Must have their rents, 
If hard times on us double. 

They've kept us down, 

With price and frown, 
To fight their daily battle, 

And we should show 

Them that we know 
We're something more than cattle. 

But "No," says one, 

"We are undone 
And what's the use of striving 

'Gainst moneyed men 

Whose tongue and pen 
Would show that we are thriving. 

"We must support 

The world and court 
And officers of station. 

If we expect 

Laws to protect 
With just interpretation. 



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!S^iiiiB)BTO 01)11 Ji II o:iB3imii]omj 



24 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. 

"Although their pay, 

What e'er they say, 
Is to us all aggressive; 

And what we do 

Is much more^ too, 
Upon us all oppressive. 

"Expense is great 

But men of state 
Must be paid well for serving." 

That's argument 

With earnest vent 
From those always a swerving. 

Well, let them go 

To — well you know — 
And let us have the cheap ones, 

If they will get 

Us out of debt, 
And quagmires that are deep one.s. 

But Smart, the fool, 

And Vote, the too], 
Must keep discri jinating ; 

The government 

Must have its rent 
Like men a speculating. 



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SONG OP THE COTTON HOER. 



25 



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Big pay, indeed! 

Tboiigli we should need 
Some meat upon our table ; 

Still we must bear 

All this, nor care, 
As long as we are able. 

No, just as soon 

'Spect night at noon, 
As me to tell them blandly 

That I will vote 

For men of note 
To rob my pockets grandly. 

My vote shall be. 

Now watch and see, 
For those who'll stop us taxing. 

From a tipstaif 

To those who laugh. 
Now while their fortune's waxing. 

I shall oppose, 

In time, all those 
Whose count in "vulgar" fractions 

Has robbed the laud 

Of millions, and 
Are making still exactions. 



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26 SONG OF THE COTTON HOER= 

'Tis thus I'd call 

On farmers all 
Yov oaths of aflBrmation, 

That we will stand 

A.11, hand in hand, 
No more of peculation. 

Figbt tricksters through 

One siege or two, 
To rectify disasters; 

'Twill surely learn 

Them in their turn 
Vv'e are the world's Great Masters. 

They have not shown, 

Save to their own, 
A heart of human reason ; 

Then why should we . 

Ask them to be 
Our friends in spite of treason'? 

If we should pray, 

Both night and day, 
For laws for our protection, 

Like moneyed kings. 

Who form in rings. 
What get we, on reflection? 



B 







But snubs and sneers 

Which prove our fears 
Are worthy of muoh laughter ! 

They ne'er can see 

Or feel that we 
Just equal rights are after. 

If Mr. Wealth, 

Just for his health, 
Asks laws for his protection, 

Pretentious quacks 

Will sift the facts- 
It's all right, on reflection; 

While we must sweat 

And toil to get 
From 'neath oppress'd condition. 

That sink in shame 

The strcmg man's name 
'Neath any recognition. 



Take church and state. 
For love or hate. 

And find a ragged devil 
Had better stay 
From them away, 

If he would seek his level . 




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28 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. H 

It may seem hard S 

To thus discard, 
And rail at men of letters ; 

But Where's relief, 

Save but in grief. 
From those considered betters? 

Laws made by Great, 

A reprobate, 
And Gent, and Reputation, 

And Captain Smart, 

And Pare of Heart, 
And Acts, and Deeds, and Station. 

I'm tired of Sense, 

As Evidence 
Has long and plainly spoken, 

That we should make. 

For Goodness' sake, 
A change of laws all broken . 

I'm tired of Tact, 

In point of fact. 
Taste, Eloquence and Charmer ; 

And Judas Judge 

Does, too, begrudge 
A living to the farmer. 

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SOXG OF THE COTTOX HOEE. 

There, Money, too, 
Has friends no few, 

Who, in rich harvests, revel 
At our expense, 
AVhile Common Sense 

Should send hira to the Devil. 

I'm tired of debt 

A.S any yet 
E'er offered up 'vocation. 

And if what's strange 

Don't make a change, 
Curse on our legislation ! 

What hopes, but slaves, 

This side our graves 
Can vve e'er hope to cherish? 

Then, let us strike 

For what we like, 
If we should in it perish! 

Go to the polls 
And "pool" our souls 

'Gainst ev'ry combination; 
Teach money kings. 
And clans, and rings :- 

They need some regulation. 



29 






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They've robbed us long, 

Yet we are strong 
Enough to give them battle, 

And we should heed 

No more, indeed, 
Their shallow tittle tattle. 

They've made the laws 

To aid their cause, 
To rob us of our earning ; 

And we have paid 

Too dear in trade 
And government for learning. 

'Tis this to pay 

And that, they say, 
"The laws must be respected," 

And if you make 

A small mistake. 
Poor dog, you're soon detected; 



Imprisoned, hung, 

Your requ'em sung, 
To tune that crime is raging 

Throughout the land, 

On ev'ry hand, 
'Mong those who war is waging. 

Ifmmmnnmimmmmmmml 



miMomoHiimiimxiiom 

SONG OF THE COTTON EOEK. 31 

With bare-faced need 

And hands of greed,' 
And hands of public phmder! 

Yea, make them bleed 

Till evil deed 
Shall cause the world to wonder! 

Let Wealth otfend? 

Some mighty end 
Led him in, rather funny; 

And if he's found 

To be unsound. 
He hushes all with money. 

It's quite a shame 

To speak his name, 
With bad men in connection; 

You do not know, 

But may be so. 
He'll run the nest electi(jn. 

And run and be, 

For aught you see. 
Elected by a number 

That would put down 

Most any frown. 
And silence even thunder. 




i 

5 







In vain "we'd know 
"Why things are so; 

In vain, for explanation 
We look to those 
Who should propose 

Some better legislation. 

But what-«ftB-they 
for pay, 




,*i 



And birds of richest featuer; 

And all you'd pray, 

Or do, or say, 
They'll flock with them together. 

Thus, when they meet 

In halls, they greet 
Each other like arch statesmen. 

The one most wise, 

With oxen eyes, 
Gets on the floor and states then: 

"My trusted friends 

We've toiled for ends 
Which costs us pains and money; 

We've now a chance. 

If you'll advance, 
To rob the bees of honey. 



I 
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LIB 



OiIBjIImIIII 



SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK, 




"We're in our prime, 

And now's the time, 
To hold a sweet communion;" 

Those eat and drink 

Must doubtless think 
Themselves fit for this union. 

With flaming eyes, 

All looking wise, 
All join in invocation: 

"Almighty God, 

Although the rod 
Has fallen on this nation, 

"May people find 

We're quite inclined 
To serve this generation 

The best we can, 

As any man 
Who'll honor such a sation. 

"But if our deeds 

Should go to weeds. 
May grace and strength uphold us, 

'Till we shall run 

Life's race, and done, 
Then in thy arms to fold us. 



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P. 



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'iim-mmmEmmmsmmmmM 



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"Help us all through 

In what we do, 
In every undertaking; 

For in thy care 

We hope to share 
The peace that knows no breaking. 

"The praise be thine, 

Thou God divine, 
Amen.'" We'd better double 

Our hopes for gain 

And risk the pain 
Of giving us some trouble. 

And then they set 

About to get 
Good will of leading papers. 

Who'll for them howl. 

Like wolves that prowl 
And cut up midnight capers. 

Hurrah! for bills. 

Hurrah ! it thrills 
Through every vein and column. 

If folks would lend 

Their ears they'd mend 
The looks of things so solemn. 




'immamnEnsmMn. 



H 



S 

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SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. 



35 



The hills rebound 

The dreadful sound, 
'Till naught is heard but thunder 

Make so and so, 

The law_, you know, 
To keep the devils under. 

But, now, you mind, 

If we don't find 
Men to curtail expenses ; 

Those who mil think 

Fair speech and ink 
Are not quite excellences. 

Who'll legislate 

For farmers' fate, 
As well as speculators', 

Whose selfish acts 

Are stubborn facts 
To make us agitators. 

Who'll not talk 'round 

When we are found 
In helplessness contrition, 

'Bout some neglect 

That did direct 
Our steps to this condition. 



36 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. 



M 



They've better seDse, 

As* evidence 
Has taught them to be saving, 

To meet demands 

Of Public's hands 
That everything is craving. 

But if these will 

Not fill the bill 
Just count me out in voting; 

I'll be, God knows, 

At ends of rows 
To know who's worth on doting. 

I'll bear th«^ toil 

Of life's rich soil, 
Of ail abominations. 

Till care-worn age 

Shall end this stage 
Of active operations. 

Oh ! for a time 

To change this rhyme, 
And change the price of cotton; 

A time to change 

All that is strange, 
And hearts of men, so rotten. 












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G 



SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. 

A time when we 

Shall all be free 
From debts and speculations; 

A.ud pinching cares 

That change our hairs 
And change considerations. 

A good old time 
That's void of crime, 

When men shall act in reason; 
And every brow 
That's wrinkled, now, 

Shall smile a happy season. 

A time when laws 

Shall serve the cause 
For which thev were intended; 

Nor money's friends 

Defeat the ends 
Of justice, long offended. 

But, if I dream, 
God grant the theme 

May yet some harp awaken, 
Whose stiring notes 
Won't be "wild oats" 

Like these I've undertaken. 



37 



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